The Unknown Woman
Many mourners attend the Potion's Professor's funeral, but who is the mysterious woman who refuses to leave the casket? Is she related to him? Why doesn't anybody recognize her? Why is she hiding her identity?
Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters or original story, no matter how much I wish I did. Get it? Got it. Good. (Do you guys even read these disclaimers anymore? I'll bet I could say anything on here and nobody would notice...)
Chapter Music: A plot bunny showed up on my walk home from school, listening to Beethoven's Funeral March. Yes. I listen to funeral marches on my way home from school. Classical music can be so expressive and eerily beautiful.
*~*~The Unknown Woman~*~*
Chapter 1
It had been less than a week since the end of the Second Wizarding War. The injured had been healed, and the dead were either already entombed forever or they were on their way to their final resting place. The procession made it's way through the small unkempt town that had been home to the dark secretive man who for whom the procession was for. Witches and warlocks from all over the wizarding world came to pay their respects on this dreary day to the man who had played a key role in the triumph over evil. This was a man whom they had all underestimated, and yet, a man they all knew nothing about. Severus Snape's innocence had been unexpected to many, but after even The Boy Who Lived showed his support for the dark potions master, they were more than willing to go along with it aswell.
The small dirt street would from simple stone church past the house where the Professor had grown up in his muggle childhood and through the edge of town to the cemetery where the rest of the Prince family was buried.
Nobody had known the man well enough to be considered his friend, and yet that all wanted to be there to show their support for the fallen hero. Most of his life was a mystery to most of them. Even those who claimed to know the most about the man knew only the information that had either been rumored or openly publicized. As far as anybody knew, he was the last member of both the Snape and the Prince line. His mother's family had not even recognized his existence being that he was a lowly half-blood, and his father had been a bar-frequenting muggle. All that had been saved in his his Gringotts account from his years of teaching had been collected by some unknown family member who had been able to prove the correct paperwork. The same person had also acquired the deed to his property on Spinner's End; a small house filled with thousands and thousands of dusty books and tomes on anything and everything one could even fathom (or at least that was what the solicitor had publicly announced).
Many of the people who arrived for the short service and the proceeding interment were there to see if the unknown relative would make an appearance, though they would never admit it. They were not disappointed.
A thin woman in a black mourning gown and a black veil that concealed her face from the prying eyes of the curious strangers had arrived at the small church with the coffin that held the deceased. She sat right next to it during the entire service and refused to leave its side even when they had wheeled it out to begin it's final journey to the small cemetery where it would be left.
She walked along side the casket, her one hand always on it, and her other hand always over her heart, clutching a necklace. She ignored all of the other mourners, not speaking a single word even during the service. The people knew not who she was, but they all felt as though they knew her. Her mannerisms were familiar, though they could not place them exactly. She walked like somebody they all knew, her gait emanating commanding strength, superiority, and attention.
Her gown billowed around her as she walked besides the casket, much like how the Professor's robes had menacingly billowed around him as the flew through the halls of Hogwarts. Otherwise, it was simple, lacking decorations except for a small pattern of embroidered black roses along the seam of the falling sleeves. The black veil she wore was see-though enough so that the outline of her face was vaguely discernible, but it hid her identifying features. The smooth black fabric fell to about half way down her back and then ended in a simple lacy rose embroidery, identical to that on the sleeves. It was extremely elegant in it's simplicity, and was obviously something that only the rather privileged could have even dreamed of affording.
When they reached the graveside, the woman knelt beside the casket and wept. Nobody dared disturb the distressed woman. They all silently decided that anybody who cared strongly enough to weep for the man as she was, was either mad or as powerful and dangerous as he himself had been.
She continued kneeling on the soggy ground, not caring one bit about the mud that stained her beautiful gown, as the pall bearers magically lowered the casket into the hole. In a nearby tree, a flock of crows chattered to one another and then flew over the small crowd at the grave side.
All the mourners watched as the soil was magically shoveled back into the hold in the ground. They stood for a few more moments paying their respects, not wanting to be the first ones to leave, and not wanting to miss seeing if the woman removed her veil.
One of the pall bearers took pity on the sobbing woman and reached out his hand to help her up. She took it and gracefully stood beside the now filled grave. She pulled out her wand, again eerily familiar but not clearly identifiable, and began murmuring incantations under her breath.
Before their eyes, a slab of obsidian stone slowly rose from the ground. The front was polished smooth, but the other sides showed their beautiful imperfections through the light that reflected off them. The bystanders watched in astonishment and awe as the obviously extremely powerful witch began murmuring an ancient incantation and words slowly began to carve themselves onto the smooth stone.
Severus Tobias Prince Snape
1960-1998
Potions Master, Spy, Hero, Husband
"Always"
The witch straightened herself up and slowly removed the necklace that she had been clutching the entire time. She pulled off the charm and muttering another incoherent incantation, pressed it against the black stone above the inscription. It sunk into the stone as though it had always been part of it. The emblem was of a lioness and a black cobra intertwined. Much to the surprise of those who would later admire the intricate pendant that looked as though it was crafted my ancient dwarven craftsmen, the two creatures were not fighting as one would expect those species to, but almost seemed to be protecting each other.
Again the necklace was familiar to a few of them, but none of them could exactly place where they had seen it before or who had been wearing it.
One final incantation produced a dozen dark blood red roses from thin air, and the witch gently placed them at the foot of the headstone. She got back up, and pulled something else off the chain which had held the lion and snake pendant. It was a ring. A wedding ring. She placed it on her finger before turning and suddenly apparating away, leaving before any of the other bewildered mourners could bother her.
